High Stakes
by Matrix-Twin1
Summary: Enjolras challenges Grantaire to a drinking contest...


High Stakes

(AN: this was born last night…I was talking to my sister about drinking games. This, naturally, made me think of Grantaire…which made me think of Enjolras…

Includes: a kiss, Courfeyrac being…himself.)

Grantaire laughed. "Ah, I'm out again."

Bossuet frowned. "…I'd almost say you're trying to lose. You're doing worse than…well…me!"

Grantaire gave a graceful shrug that meant absolutely nothing.

It was a Friday night. The amis (noticeably sans Enjolras) were entertaining themselves with various drinking games. Grantaire was losing, and naturally, the more he lost, the less capable he was of winning. The game was one of Courfeyrac's invention, and, without going into too much detail, it involved naming the most…interesting…sexual act one could think of. Naturally, they were endlessly amused with this game.

They heard the door from the café open, and rapid footsteps in the hall. Combeferre hurried to cover the map of France, and there was a tense lull in the game. (Combeferre, it must be noted, as not participating. He had stood around blushing the entire evening, but he hadn't left. Feuilly had stayed perhaps half an hour, before going off, shaking his head and laughing. Everyone else was present.) The door to the back room opened. Enjolras stepped in.

He instantly became the centre of attention. He raised an eyebrow. "Do I want to know?"

They all shook their heads, but Joly, (who, interestingly, hadn't had a drink in some time) cried, "Grantaire's cheating!"

Combeferre, terrified of Enjolras seeing him there, took the opportunity to flee.

Enjolras turned his attention to Grantaire. "Cheating, Winecask?"

Grantaire smirked at Joly. "Losing this game is hardly something to be ashamed of."

"And what game might this be?" Enjolras was still concentrated on Grantaire, who was getting nervous.

Grantaire put up his hands in submission, inclining his head to Courfeyrac. "Ask him!"

Enjolras' eyes flicked to Courfeyrac, the rest of him still focused on Grantaire.

Courfeyrac, looking very pleased with himself, said, "It's a drinking game I invented. You think of the most perverted sexual act you can, and the next person has to think of something worse. We all vote about whether it's worse or not. First person who can't think of something has to drink."

Enjolras smiled, wickedly, looking back at Grantaire. "While I'm hardly surprised that you're cheating at a drinking game, to more quickly inebriate yourself, you must have difficulty restraining yourself from answering."

Grantaire was more than a little drunk, making him quick to speak. "Why're you after me? He started it!" He pointed vigorously at Courfeyrac.

"Oui, he did start it. He also wrote a rather brilliant pamphlet last week, and spoke to new recruits at the university. What have you done? Cheated…and failed."

"Will I _ever_ be able to live that down!"

"I offer you one chance, and one chance only, on my terms."

Grantaire nodded, a little desperately. The others were silent, uncertain.

"I propose my own drinking game…" startled laughter interrupted him—Enjolras challenging Grantaire to a drinking game?—but a pale, slender hand silenced the amis again. "If you win, I never mention the Barriere du Maine again."

Grantaire looked intensely suspicious, but longing. In a bare whisper, he asked, "And if you win?"

"This game is simple, even you might understand: I ask a question, you may reply only with a question. It must relate to the original question. Are you familiar with it?"

Grantaire ignored the barb, and nodded.

"Good. For every time you lose, that is, answer by statement rather than question, you do _not_ get a drink. Every statement is one drink you may not have."

Grantaire blinked. Courfeyrac burst out laughing.

Enjolras whirled. "The rest of you, out." The left, meekly. Except Courfeyrac.

"Non, non, I can't leave now! It's just getting good!"

"Out."

He left.

Enjolras remained, observing Grantaire. "Do we have a deal?"

"How do I win?"

"You don't. Don't you see that yet?"

Grantaire gaped, blinking. "I…I don't…"

"I've thought long and hard about this…I don't know why I bothered thinking about you, but I did. I believe the only way to make you stop drinking is my intervention. If, every time you go to take a drink, you hear my voice forbidding you…well, you seem to know no higher deterrent."

"And what do I get?"

Enjolras looked momentarily disgusted. "Your humanity. But, if that's not enough, fine. If you manage to beat me at our…game…say, five times, I never mention the Barriere du Maine. Or if you stop drinking. For at least three months."

"And I get whatever drinks I may have lost. Bought by you."

Enjolras waved a hand dismissively, clearly not intending this to happen.

Things were going badly for Grantaire. He kept getting distracted and answering Enjolras' questions. It was, after all, automatic for him to do whatever Enjolras told him. He was down almost thirty drinks (of course, Enjolras quipped, that would only stop him for an hour or so).

Then, Grantaire had an idea. It was his turn to begin the questioning.

"Do you love me?"

"What!"

"I said, do you love me?"

Enjolras sputtered. "Of course not!"

Grantaire smiled. "One." He stepped closer. "Do you like me?"

"Stop it."

"Two."

Enjolras gathered himself. "Why are you so depraved?"

"Why aren't you?"

"Because I…damn you, Winecask!"

"Three."

Enjolras smiled back. "Do you love me?"

"What do you think?"

"I asked you…!" Enjolras had been badly shaken by the first question, and never really regained himself.

Grantaire stepped closer, and delivered the final blow. He kissed Enjolras full on the mouth. "Did you like that?"

Enjolras, for possibly the first time in his life, was speechless.

Grantaire, victoriously on his way out, looked over his shoulder. "I always cheat at drinking games."


End file.
